The site of the mine collapse wasn’t far as the crow flies, but as the cart goes it took about two hours. A section of rocky ground cleared of vegetation below an outcrop, now packed with those come to help dig out the trapped miners. There was no sign of the collapse from the outside, the adit extended well out of sight of the lanterns hung at the opening.
“You’re a likely looking lad! Bit tall for the tunnels, but we need someone fresh on the lift wheel.” The short, bearded man who spoke looked like a solid block of muscle. It took a minute for Peter to realize he was being recruited for a specific task. A stern look from Marla had him taking a deep breath and stepping forward.
“Someone will need to show me, but I’ll gladly help however I can.” It didn’t even sound like him talking, but it was. The stocky foreman waved, and a young boy covered in dirt ran over.
“Got some new legs for the lift, take him to the wheel.” The boy nodded and hurried into the adit without Peter. “Hey! Make sure he can keep up!” It was hard to tell with the smears of dust turned to mud on his face, but the boy looked a bit sheepish when he returned.
Peter hurried as best he could, but it was difficult when moving through a passage carved by men two feet shorter. He was especially glad for the guide when the tunnels started branching and fissures large enough for a person to disappear into could barely be seen in the dim light. Ropes and planks helped cross safely, but a lantern would have been nice.
At their destination, Peter immediately understood what was being asked of him. A massive hamster wheel stood near a shaft, ropes and pullies stretching into the darkness below. Several sweaty men looked ready to pass out, including the one still walking in the wheel.
Looking around at the small cavern they were in, Peter missed what his guide said to the wheel turners. Sounds echoed strangely here, which didn’t help. Sparkling patches above had him wondering what sort of mine this was, and he could almost taste water dripping nearby.
The wheel creaked to a halt, and Peter was ushered in as soon as its previous occupant stumbled out. “Forward, down. Backward, up,” the man grunted as Peter passed him. His gestures clarified what his brevity left ambiguous.
Learning didn’t go smoothly, but Peter managed. When the sling finally rose above the shaft, tired men rushed forward and swung it to the floor, rushing off with hand carts full of stone. He was immediately asked to turn around and send the sling back down.
And so it went for two hours before he was ordered to stop and go drink some water.
Two more shifts passed before the sun set. Not that the sun directly affected what went on in the mine. Peter estimated his time in the wheel would be equivalent of forty kilometers, which explained why his legs were so tired.
But the miners were still trapped.
Peter was led out for some fresh air. Marla spotted him immediately and gestured for him to approach. There wasn’t anywhere to sit where she was standing, talking to some others.
“Glad the lift isn’t needed for a while?” Marla asked.
“If all the rubble hasn’t been cleared, why stop the lift?”
“All the rubble that can be cleared has been, for now. A massive stone slab is blocking the passage. We can talk to those trapped on the other side, but we can’t see them or pass them supplies.” It was the blocky foreman who answered, surprising Peter. “We can cut away at it until someone small can squeeze through, but that will take days. Out here on the surface we can easily move blocks even ten times the size, but we don’t have the room to use those methods down there. I had the thought that maybe while the crew rests, a fresh set of eyes could take a look.”
“He means you, Peter. Someone who doesn’t know what they are looking for might notice something that has been overlooked.”
“The obvious question, without having seen the fall, is it had to come from somewhere, so is there a void above it? Or did everything all the way to the surface come down with it?”
“Why would it matter?”
“It seems unlikely that a boulder that large came down and then moved horizontally into the passage. If you get on top, would you have less material to cut through?”
“Maybe. Most of it could be fractured, too, which is easier to remove. But how about you come down and see for yourself?”
“If you think it might help, of course I will. I need more light than your men seem to, though.”
“I’ll fetch you a lantern to carry.” The foreman stumped off to a wooden shack.
“No helpful insights from your home?” Marla asked. Peter looked at her properly, and noticed she was dirtier than him.
“Even if I knew how to make all the parts for all the tools, it would take a year or more to do it. That sort of technology requires precision I haven’t seen any evidence of here, and a power source. Thousands of years ago amazing works of stone were made without even iron tools, but no one in my time knows exactly how they did it or how long it took.” Peter looked up to the sky, thinking for a minute. “No, I don’t know of anything useful. What have you been doing? I doubt they had you running in a wheel.”
“Mostly carrying water to the work site. I’ve also been helping with all the minor injuries that are inevitable in an effort like this.”
“At least you’re short enough to pass through the tunnels comfortably.”
“What, is the ceiling too close to your head for your liking?”
“Too close? I would need another head of room just to stand up straight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
The foreman returned with a lit lantern and two more workers. “Let’s go. I’m told you don’t move very fast down there.”
“You need rail carts.”
“Rail carts?”
“Carts with special wheels that allow them to be pushed at high speeds along rails without coming off. Straight lines are easier but turns work if the radius is large enough.”
“Can you draw them?”
“I could try, I guess. It’s not like I’ve ever made them before. I’ve just heard of them, seen depictions.”
“Might be enough for us to figure it out.”
Peter didn’t talk much while he was hunched over and found it hard to hear anything said in conversation. He was thoroughly lost within minutes, as this time they didn’t stick to level passages but went down ramps and even ladders. The tunnels also switched back and forth, but not at regular enough intervals and angles for him to have a hope of working out where he was in relation to the entrance.
At the bottom of the main shaft, where the lift was set up, a passage stretched off. It was twice as tall as any of the others, a result of the ceiling dropping. A hundred feet in, the slab lay blocking the passage. It was nearly five feet tall and nearly as wide as the tunnel. Since the earlier conversation indicated no one had thought of climbing up on top of the block, Peter had expected it to be covered in rubble. It wasn’t. Not being quarried stone, the boulder was rough enough for Peter to climb, so he did.
There were loose rocks covering it, but he had nearly as much room as he did in the tunnels. The lantern was handed up to him, and with it he crawled the fifteen feet or so to the other end. Laying on his stomach, Peter could barely see the gap between this slab and the passage tunnel beyond. He couldn’t fit his hand through.
Light had no difficulty passing through, however, and excited voices came closer. “I can’t understand you if you’re all talking at once,” he said. They quieted immediately, then one voice responded.
“The light is bright; you must be close!”
“But no nearer to getting you out, I’m afraid.” Peter shoved a handful of dust and pebbles through the crack. “This gap isn’t even wide enough to stick a finger through.”
“How big is the slab?”
“Three times as long as it is tall.”
“Oh.” The excitement had left the unseen miner’s voice. “Then how are you at this end?”
“I climbed up on top and crawled. The rest of the way is clear.”
“You climbed up above? That … never mind. We’ll just have to make the gap bigger.”
“I’ll leave the lantern here and get some tools. Maybe I can make a hole big enough to give you clean water, at least.”
“Thank you.”
Peter turned and crawled back. “If you’ve got a pick there, there might be enough room for me to swing it. I can give it a try while you get a ladder.” He was surprised at the authority in his own voice. He had never shown an inkling of leadership before.
To his surprise, the foreman didn’t take offence and merely passed Peter a pick.
Never having done more than use one to loosen garden soil, Peter was a bit unsure of himself, but he needn’t have been. It turns out millennia old technology is fairly simple. Chips flew with each swing, though not always from where he wanted.
Settling into a rhythm, Peter resigned himself to a long shift and arms getting as sore as his legs.
“Here, lad, stop!” Peter blinked at the shout and let the pick fall to rest. However long he had been working, he could have fit a can of pop easily through the hole he had made. Maybe not large enough to be useful, but still impressive to him.
Three of the stocky mining men were behind him, backs pressed against one wall to give him the room to pass. To his surprise, there was a new-looking ladder in place. As he attempted to descend it, however, his arms went to jelly, and he fell.
Peter’s vision dimmed and it took him a moment to realize he hadn’t hit the stone floor. Hands had caught him and lowered him gently. “Fool lad, we’ll likely have to carry him out,” he heard someone, probably the foreman, say. Things were still blurry, but he could make out light and dark again.
“Peter, are you okay?” Marla was there. Of course she was.
“I will be in a minute,” he replied. Or he tried to. It came out a mumble. “Water?” Peter repeated himself a few times.”
“Yes, here is water, now stop trying to talk so you can drink.” A waterskin was shoved to his lips and he drank. “Now, can you walk out of here?”
“Of course,” Peter answered, annoyed. He stood up, started to walk toward the shaft, and his legs collapsed. He landed on his knees, hard. “Maybe not.”
“I’ll get the lads to bring a stretcher. It’s a long way out.”
“Just need to get to the sling. It can lift carts with rocks weighing more than I do, it can lift me.”
“But it’s not … I mean, what if the rope slips? Or breaks?”
“Tie an extra rope.”
“If you want, I guess we can try it.”
And so, Peter found himself in the sling as someone else walked the wheel to lift him. The jerking and swaying was nerve-wracking, and he bumped against the sides of the shaft far too often for comfort. But he made it and was pulled to safety and offered one of the very carts he had mentioned earlier.
He was unaware of most of the ride outside. He could see the stars clearly, though, once he got there. When they arrived at a tent with food laid out, Peter lurched to his feet and managed the few steps to deposit himself on a bench with a thud.
For once in his life, Peter didn’t even look at what he was eating. He just shoveled it in, suddenly starving. When he finally felt full, he found Marla sitting across from him, staring.
“You’ve gained a reputation here, and we’re benefiting from it. We get a bed to ourselves in a tent instead of sleeping in the communal barracks.”
“I don’t think I would even know the difference tonight. We have lifts where I come from, but they’re a bit more complicated. A box or cage instead of a sling. Usually two, on either end of a rope, so when one is at the bottom of the shaft the other is at the top.”
“Really? Why?”
“People don’t like ladders or stairs. And some buildings are twenty-five or more stories tall.”
“That is as believable as your flying machines.”
“I’ll have to build one for you, then.”
“We have a trip to complete, Peter. We’re not stopping to build a tower as tall as a mountain.”
“No, a flying machine.”
“I doubt we have time for that, either.”
“Just a little one. Tomorrow, if my arms will work.”
“Are you ready to go to bed?”
“Yes. I don’t know if I’ll make it, though.”
“You can lean on me if you need to.” Peter stood and started walking slowly, Marla at his side.
“Sounds like a bad idea. Have you ever heard of explosives?”
“Like a volcano?”
“Kind of. They can certainly explode. But what I’m thinking of is a powder made of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal. Pack it into a clay vial with a fuse, stick it in a hole in the rock, light the fuse and run. Makes a loud noise, cracks the rock.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Of course. It has been used to kill millions of people. Has killed or injured millions more in accidents.”
“Why would anyone want to use it, then?”
“In a mining operation, it can do the work of a dozen men for a week in seconds.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Well, yes. But faster is cheaper.”
“Here’s our tent.”
Peter had made it without needing help.
He collapsed onto the bed and was asleep in seconds. He hadn’t even taken his boots off.